


Dominus

by Blue_Night



Series: The Adventures of the Roman Legatus Marcus Retus and his Friends [14]
Category: Football RPF, Original Work, Real Person Fiction, Rome
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient Rome, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Collars, Defiance, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Dominance, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Submission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-14 18:46:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13013898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: Centurion Robertus Levantus has never met a sub like Marcus Retus, the son of one of the wealthiest and most important Roman families. Is Marcus the sub the young Dom has always been searching for? Marcus hates himself for what he is, thinking that he can never be the strong soldier he has always wanted to be. When Robertus offers him his collar and to take him under his wing, Marcus agrees, but that doesn't mean that they will also become lovers because of that...In the meantime, his friend Centurion Thomas Mullericus meets his new superior after Tiberius' revelry, the young tribune Manuellus Novus, a man who refuses to consider himself a sub and just wants to give up control now and then to let someone else be in charge of him for a while. Will Thomas be the right one for Manuellus, or will their different ways of life end their relationship before it has even begun?





	1. First Encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoForGoals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoForGoals/gifts), [mariothellama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/gifts).



> My dearest GoForGoals and mariothellama,
> 
> I decided to post my Christmas gift for you before Christmas because I hope that I will be able to finish this story over the holidays. I wanted to write such a fic for a rather long time, and I hope it will make up for the Roman collar BDSM story you're actually waiting for. I might write the sequel to 'The Slave' one day, but at the moment, writing Leweus is easier for me, and writing Marcus as the defiant sub for once was too tempting to resist it. Thomas and Manuel will be only a side pairing if they don't insist on getting their own one or two chapters, we'll see. I'm aiming for not more than ten chapters, but you know how it goes...  
> Your other gifts are still in the making, this story is my humble thank you for your friendship and your outstanding and ongoing support. Words can't express how grateful and happy I am that you're really reading each and every single story of mine, no matter whether they are original stories, stories about my beloved Wraith or about our favorite players. Without you, I had given up writing a long time ago.  
> Thank you so much for everything, my dearest friends! <33
> 
> The idea to this story is strongly based on a series that is a crossover between SGA and NCIS, where Antonio DiNozzo wears Gibb's collar for years without actually having a sexual relationship with him. I found this intake fascinating and wanted to give it a try.
> 
> I mused about naming this story 'The Dom', but decided that I liked 'Dominus' better, because a Roman sub would of course call his Dom 'Dominus'.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robertus and Marcus meet in the maze in Proconsul Tiberius' private gardens for the first time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably not more than an introduction, but I must admit that I had surprising fun writing it. I hope you will like it. <33

It was dark and quiet when the young centurion with the dark hair and the handsome male features stepped outside, just like Robertus Levantus had hoped it would be. He really needed a break from the revelry that was in full swing, and he had searched for a place where he would be undisturbed and alone with his thoughts.

The fresh breeze of the late evening cooled his flushed cheeks, and Robertus bent his head back and closed his eyes to inhale deeply the sweet smells of the flowers blooming in the private garden of Proconsul Tiberius' villa, tasting their scent on his tongue as he allowed his body to relax for a brief moment before it would tense up again, ready to attack or defend at any time, whether he was awake or sleeping, a habit that came naturally with the years of practice.

Tiberius wasn't a friend of such orgies either, but he knew that he had to keep up appearances and give the Roman aristocracy what they craved for if he didn't want to lose their support, so he invited the senators and their families for one of his famous debauches every time he was in Rome. Every at least halfway important Roman citizen craved to get an invitation and boost their own esteem with that, because Tiberius' revelries were rare and therefore precious and valued occasions, and the food delicious, the singers and dancers exquisite and the wine palatable and of highest quality.

There were a few strict rules the proconsul had set up for his guests though, rules Tiberius' guests had to respect if they didn't want to get thrown out of his villa and never be invited in the future right away again. One of these rules was that only a handful of carefully selected guests were allowed to use Tiberius' private gardens for a walk or perhaps even something more intimate, and Robertus as one of the proconsul's most faithful subordinates happened to be one of these few selected people.

Robertus never got drunk during one of the orgies he had to endure for the sake of politics, the well-trained soldier in him not allowing him to lose control over his actions even for a few minutes. This was not the only reason for him staying sober though, and the other reason was what had made him search for a place where he would be alone for a while.

The young centurion had had his hands full with keeping the countless more than eager and willing to please him subs at arm's length the minute he had entered the house, and the fact that his friend Thomas – a strong Dom himself – had enjoyed himself very much by watching three hardly grown up boys trying to lick his sandals all at once hadn't really helped him to keep his composure and calm either.

“So many beautiful and willing subs, all of them whining so nicely for your attention, Robertus, this is really a hard and cruel fate you have to face here.” The younger Dom with hair shining like dark honey in the light of the torches attached to the walls had mocked him friendlily. “But none of them seems to be the right one. I have yet to find out what kind of sub you're actually looking for. I wouldn't mind to play the Dominus for one of these handsome subs tonight.”

Robertus had only raised one of his dark eyebrows at him. “Good luck then, my friend. I will happily leave them under your care. And to answer your question: I will know what I am looking for when I have found them.”

Thomas had pursed his lips, his cheerful smile vanishing to a thoughtful expression. “Yes, I know what you mean, I haven't found the one who could win my heart so far either and make me want to offer my collar to them either. It's hard to find the right one on the battlefield or in a somber and stinking camp. But I won't give up hope that he or she will cross my way one day.” His smile had come back after that statement, not the mocking one this time, but a smile full of warmth Thomas reserved for his closest friends.

“Just escape into the garden for a while, my friend, I will distract the poor boys until you're out of sight. You really deserve it after the last weeks.” They had just come back to Rome after a very long and very hard and cold winter in Germania, and even though both centurions actually liked this wild and beautiful country, but they had both missed the warm sun shining onto the City of Rome dearly.

Robertus had nodded gratefully and made his way to the door, trusting Thomas to keep his promise and distract the young men for long enough that he could escape them without one of them trying to follow him outside.

These events were what had led his steps to Proconsul Tiberius' private garden, and Robertus made his way over to the beautiful maze now, hoping that a walk in the moonlight would clear his mind and make the feeling of restlessness go away, and which he was feeling for several days by now.

Strange sounds coming from inside the maze caught his attention, and Robertus frowned, following the noises as quietly as if he was a ghost not even touching the soft green grass with his sandals. It could always be that another Roman had hired an assassin to murder Tiberius or one of his guests, and Robertus had survived each battle and attack so far because he was always attentive, wary and careful, never losing his cautiousness, even not in private.

The young Dom stopped abruptly at the sight displayed before his eyes when he turned around the next corner of the small path that led into the maze, staring at the scene with narrowed eyes and his hand hovering over the handle of the dagger fixed to his belt for a moment.

When he realized what he had just stumbled into, Robertus crossed his arms before his chest, his face turning impassive, waiting patiently for the two actors totally caught up in their task to finally notice him.

Robertus knew the young man kneeling before the fat senator only briefly, they hadn't talked to each other so far, but the dark-haired centurion knew that the younger one came from one of the noblest and wealthiest Roman families. His handsome and aristocratic features gave his noble origin away, but his behavior and his clothing didn't really match with his aristocratic birth.

His simple white tunic was stained with something Robertus really didn't want to explore further, and the soft wool was rumpled and hung around his slim body as if it had served as a sack for crop before someone had taken pity on it and tried to make a tunic out of it.

The mouth with the sensitive lips – Robertus had seen this special sub only from the distance for a few times, but closely enough to know that those lips were indeed sensitive – was stretched around the beefy cock of Senator Pertellus in an obscene way, and the slurping sounds the young Roman was making sent a shiver of disgust down on Robertus' spine. Somehow, Robertus guessed that the young man could do much better than that, blowing another man's mind with his skills and this most likely without those disturbing noises - which had even become louder when Robertus had turned around the corner as the young Dom had well noticed.

The plump senator pulled roughly at the shimmering red-golden strands of the young man as he fucked his mouth greedily, grunting his way to his orgasm, apparently not deterred by the slurping and burping at all.

Senator Pertellus considered himself one of the most powerful Doms of Rome, but Robertus had heard enough stories about him to know that he wasn't as powerful as he wanted to appear, incapable of satisfying the needs of a sub properly and never gaining their respect. If anything, then Pertellus was only a switch, and Robertus longed to teach him a lesson that would show him where his place was.

The older man wasn't worthy to get the submission of such a delicate sub like the blond kneeling before him actually was, and his senses were too dull to notice Robertus standing only a few feet away from him. The young centurion could have stabbed him in the back with his dagger if he had wanted to do that, and the smile curling at Robertus' own sensitive mouth was a smile of contempt and loathing.

The blond sub didn't look up at Robertus, but something in his suddenly stiff posture told Robertus that he knew quite well that Robertus was watching him sucking Pertellus' fleshy cock, that he had sensed Robert approaching him right from the beginning. The older man either didn't care about the sub serving him being flat and not aroused at all though, or he just hadn't noticed that the treasure kneeling before him didn't show any sign of desire or arousal – which was more likely the case, Robertus thought.

Pertellus' grunts became louder, drowning out the slurping sounds the sub was still making, and Robertus couldn't help but remember the swines that had crossed the street right before his stallion Nightshade a couple of hours ago. They had grunted just like the senator was doing now, but they had moved their round and rosy bodies with much more elegance than the plump switch did.

The sub finally raised his eyes to meet Robertus' gaze, and the amber-green depths drew Robertus in in a way he had never experienced it before. The young Dom could see defiance, challenge and grim determination in the beautiful golden orbs staring up at him, but also self-loathe and something akin to despair. It was only for the blink of an eye, but Robertus was sure that he wasn't wrong with what he had detected in the sub's astonishing eyes.

Centurion Robertus Levantus stared down at the blond son of one of the most important Roman families and in this moment, he realized that he had finally found what he had been looking for for so long. This sub was like an uncut diamond, waiting for the right Dom to take him under their wing and care – to cut him until the precious jewel he actually was would finally come out of its shell to shine and sparkle in the sunlight.

Cutting this diamond would be a challenge and a hard task, but it would be worth it in the end.

Marcus, the son of the former proconsul Thomas Retus was meant to be his sub, and Robertus would do what's necessary to make him realize this truth, no matter how long it would take him to make this happen.

 

***

 

Marcus had already felt his presence before he had come into sight, the strong dominant aura radiating from the dark-haired centurion almost overwhelming him even from the distance. Marcus had seen Robertus Levantus a few times only, mostly when the proud and very handsome soldier had ridden beside Proconsul Tiberius, and even then had his powerful aura affected Marcus more than the young sub had thought it possible.

Robertus Levantus was a man Marcus would better stay as far away from him as possible, and he had always made sure that their paths never crossed until that night, sensing that he'd be lost if Robertus would come too close to him and bring him under his spell with his mere presence as easily as he was doing it now.

Marcus hadn't wanted to visit Tiberius' feast, but his father as one of the proconsul's oldest friends had insisted on his only son coming with him, even though he must know by now how pointless this was. Marcus was a sub down to his bones, and subs like him didn't become tough soldiers – let alone officers, no matter what his parents might think or wish for. How was a sub craving to kneel before their dominant subordinates to suck their cocks supposed to give them orders and make them obey on the battlefield?

Marcus hated himself for what he was, but he couldn't change his true self, not matter how hard he tried, and he had resigned himself to his fate long ago and passed his time with playing games, manipulating the Doms he always chose carefully before submitting to them, and with visiting the other sons and daughters of the noble Roman families, having reached true mastery in getting the information he wanted without them noticing it within the past two years.

Marcus was bored and tired of all of this, and he only felt happy when he could take a ride with his beloved Arab Thunder, the only being in this world giving him the feeling that he was strong and worthy enough to call himself the son of the famous Thomas Retus.

Agreeing to Pertellus' order to suck his cock in the private gardens behind Tiberius' villa had only been another attempt to escape his boredom and – most of all – the most attractive Dom Marcus had ever seen. Just seeing Robertus from the distance made him crave to go to him, kneel down before him and promise him everything if the other man would only gift him with a small amount of his attention. But Marcus still had his pride, and he wouldn't do what all the other subs in the large hall had done to make the young Dom merely look at them.

Going to the garden with Pertellus had obviously been a bad idea though, because Marcus couldn't escape Robertus here in the maze, and his stomach tingled with both, fear and excitement when he found the piercing blue gaze directed at him while he let Pertellus fuck his mouth with his ugly cock.

Robertus achieved with his mere presence what the plump senator would never accomplish even not in thousand years, making Marcus' cock twitch with desire and his heart beat faster in his chest.

Running away was not an option, Marcus was too much of a sub to merely think of trying to disobey Robertus' unspoken order to stay where he was, and he was too proud not to finish his task and make Pertellus squirm and howl with lust because of his sucking skills.

So he just raised his eyes to stare up at the most powerful Dom of the entire Roman Empire, holding Robertus' gaze with defiance and stubbornness while he sucked and swirled his tongue, hoping that Pertellus would come to an end any time soon and leave him alone afterwards. Which would surely happen if the stern expression on Robertus' face was any indication. Marcus still marveled how Pertellus managed to stay totally oblivious and not notice that someone was standing behind him and looking daggers at his back until now.

The senator was apparently willing to fulfill Marcus' wish because he pushed his hips forward with loud grunts in the very next second, salty liquid filling Marcus' mouth in weak spurts.

The blond Roman waited obediently until Pertellus pulled his soft and now rather small cock out of his mouth before he spit its contents onto the path, wishing he had some water he could rinse his mouth with.

It was only now that Pertellus realized that he had been watched the entire time, staring at the dark-haired centurion with wide eyes and a stupid expression on his face.

Robertus wore a red toga over his white tunic, dressed with the colors of high ranking officers, and Marcus was suddenly painfully aware of his own shabby tunic. He had left his toga lying in a crumpled pile of wool on the grass before the door, but it would probably be stained now and crinkled, putting his father to shame in front of Tiberius if Marcus went back to the revelry dressed like this.

“Centurion Levantus, what are you doing here?” Pertellus squeaked in a high-pitched voice, pulling Marcus out of his rapturous staring with that. He was obviously trying to appear as equally powerful as the younger man was, but his feeble attempts were in vain of course, and Robertus didn't even move, just raised one of his eyebrows.

“Visiting Proconsul Tiberius' private gardens with his kind permission. I had hoped to find some peace and quiet here, but I was obviously wrong with that. I don't think that I remember you belonging to the few selected guests being allowed to visit the gardens, by the way?” Levantus replied, giving his voice a casual and almost cheerful tone that served to make Marcus freeze in place, very aware of the imminent danger looming over him.

Pertellus was oblivious to the subtle signs the younger Dom gave away though, relaxing and grinning at Robertus conspiratorially when he answered to the centurion's question, which had actually been a statement and not a question at all. “I'm sure that our generous host simply forgot to inform you about that,” Pertellus tried to deceive Robertus, without being successful of course, earning a similar wide grin in return when Robertus 'beamed' at the older Roman.

To Marcus, his grin looked like a panther baring its teeth before attacking its prey to cut their throat.

“We could ask him, my dear Pertellus, shall we? I'm sure that the proconsul will confirm your assertion and ease my mind with that gladly.”

Pertellus paled, that was even visible in the moonlight. “That won't be necessary, really not, my sub and I wanted to leave the garden and go back to the feast anyway. We will leave you alone at once, my dear Robertus.”

Pertellus waved at Marcus in what he probably thought was demanding enough to make the handsome sub obey, most likely craving to enjoy his services for another time somewhere else in the villa where they wouldn't be watched.

Marcus just looked at Robertus and decided to stay where he was without moving. His knees hurt after the long time he had knelt on the hard ground, but there was no way that he would try to pass the man standing in the middle of the path like a hunter who had just cornered his prey.

The deer he had once hunted together with a friend must have felt this way, and Marcus had let it escape, unable to shoot it after a glance in its dark and scared, pleading eyes.

“Your sub? Who do you want to fool with that, senator? You can go. He will stay,” Robertus now said, his voice still casual, but with a steel-hard undertone. “You're lucky that I am in the mood to be generous tonight, Pertellus. If I'll ever catch you in Proconsul Tiberius' gardens again, or you coming closer to this sub than with a distance of at least five hundred cubits between you and him, than you will regret it. Am I understood?”

Pertellus' jaw worked. “You are understood, Levantus,” the older Roman ground out, adding a choked “Centurion Levantus,” when he noticed Robertus' glare. It was clear to see that he was furious about how the younger Dom treated him, but the plump senator was too much of a coward to try and stand up against the dark-haired centurion.

Pertellus just shot Marcus an angry look out of narrowed eyes before turning around and making his way back to the villa, fumbling with his toga and his loincloth as he did so.

Robertus looked after him until the senator was out of sight, slowly turning around again to regard the blond sub still kneeling motionless on the path silently.

Marcus swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat as realization sank in that he was alone with the man he had avoided so desperately, alone and without any chance to escape him.

Marcus swallowed again, lifting his chin up in defiance as he met Robertus' quiet and angry scrutiny with a similar hard glance of his own.


	2. Just a Game?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas has been busied with keeping the young subs from going after Robertus, and he is glad when he can withdraw to his guest quarters in Tiberius' villa. What he didn't expect to find there is a very special nightly visitor waiting for him in his room...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a long one, and I'm actually torn between being a little bit proud of it and fearing that it is just a complete failure. I've never written anything similar to this, and I tried to approach this special topic from a new side. I love writing Thomas as a strong and kind Dom, but I want Manuellus to be special and different from the 'usual' sub. I really hope that you will like it. <33
> 
> Garum: a special Roman fish-sauce.  
> Millepeda: Latin for centipede/millipede

Thomas Mullericus entered the large guest room in Proconsul Tiberius' villa with a sigh, leaning against the closed door for a moment. The young centurion was in a strange mood ever since his friend Robertus had left him to seek some peace and quiet in Tiberius' private gardens, and Thomas had had his hands full with keeping all the disappointed subs from running after him.

Some of them had focused their attention on him afterwards, but none of the admittedly handsome subs had aroused any other feeling in him than compassion and vague annoyance. Thomas was self-confident enough not to be jealous of Robertus outstripping him most of the times, and he oftentimes thought that he would most likely go after Robertus rather than after himself if he was a sub and not a Dom too.

The young Dom with hair like dark honey and the fascinating bi-colored eyes was actually fine with getting less attention than his older dark-haired friend, so this was not what made him feel restless and irritated tonight. But his talk with Robertus about the one special sub both of them hoped to find for themselves one day hadn't left him alone again, and the fact that Robertus hadn't come back but had just disappeared from the orgy without any other word had only increased the strange queasiness in his guts.

Thomas knew that Robertus preferred not to stay in one of Tiberius' guest quarters after one of the proconsul's orgies, so his friend not coming back to the great hall could just mean that he had left the revelry and gone home because he hadn't felt well, but Thomas somehow doubted that. Tiberius always reserved rooms for them, and Thomas would most likely have gotten a note if Robertus had decided to leave. Something unexpected must have kept the older Dom busied, and Thomas sixth sense told him that it had something to do with their talk.

The younger centurion was grateful that he didn't need to go back to the villa of his parents and talk to them as if everything was alright with all those strange thoughts troubling him. He got along with his parents quite well, but his mother hadn't felt well due to the heatwave that had paralyzed Rome over the past two weeks, and his father hadn't wanted to leave her alone and therefore stayed at home with her. Tiberius had regretted their absence but of course understood the reason for their refusal, but his father would expect a detailed report from him after his return, and Thomas really wasn't in the mood for that.

The young Dom sighed and pushed himself away from the door just to stop again when he noticed the unexpected and unwelcome visitor standing close to the glass doors leading to the balcony that belonged to the guest room.

The man was tall and stood in the shadows, and Thomas narrowed his eyes to get a better look at him. Only the two candles attached to the wall beside the door illuminated the large room, and it took Thomas a moment to recognize the other one.

His counterpart watched him silently, must have done so since Thomas had entered the room, and Thomas told himself off for not having paid better attention to his surroundings like he normally did due to his profession. His well-trained instincts normally worked well and warned him when someone tried to approach him, he must be much more upset than he had actually thought that he was to miss someone staring at him like this for several minutes.

Thomas straightened his shoulders as he returned the silent scrutiny, remembering the name of the taller one as he regarded him attentively. Tiberius had informed Robertus and him about the new addition to their legions, a young and skilled officer who would join them when they would go back to Germania in a couple of weeks. He had been in Syria over the last two years, and he had proved himself worthy enough to catch Tiberius' attention and his approval, and the tall officer had just been promoted a couple of days ago.

Thomas had caught the other one watching him a few times during the orgy, but they hadn't talked to each other, and the new member of their officer corps had carefully kept his distance to Thomas for the entire evening – until now.

The dark-blond Dom had actually thought at first that their new superior was watching Robertus, and he had been surprised when he had realized that the astonishing blue eyes the other Roman called his own were directed at him and not at his friend.

Now, that was interesting that he had even gone so far to find out which guest room was the one where Thomas usually resided when he was Tiberius' guest, and Thomas put on his impassive mask as he slowly crossed the room, walking over to the rack for his clothing. He craved to get rid of the heavy toga and air it, the various smells emanating from the expensive wool increasing the slight nausea pooling in his stomach. The other man's eyes widened when he realized what Thomas was about to do, but he still had to make the first move and start their talk – which he surely wouldn't do as far as Thomas could read from his stiff posture.

“Tribunus Manuellus Novus! I'm pleased to finally make your acquaintance, but would you be so kind to enlighten me what you're doing in my room? It is a rather unusual hour for such a courtesy call, don't you think so?”

The young tribune couldn't hide the slight blush coloring his for someone coming from Syria astonishing pale cheeks as he tried to cover his for Thomas rather obvious intentions with feigned annoyance.

“Your room, Centurion... uhm - I'm not sure if I remember your name, I'm sorry. Proconsul Tiberius has told me so many names over the last couple days, and I've never been good at remembering names, I'm afraid.” Manuellus' voice trembled only slightly as Thomas noticed with a hidden smirk, he was good in covering his insecurities, but not good enough for Thomas. “Either way,” the taller one hurried to get his point across, “these are my rooms! You must have taken the wrong turn on your way to the guest quarters, _Centurion_.” Emphasizing Thomas' rank to hide his uncertainty.

The dark-blond Dom didn't even bother to honor this apparent and pretty weak attempt to fool him with an answer. He only took his toga off, hanging it carefully over the rack, making sure that Manuellus was granted a good view on his backside and his strong-muscled thighs that were only partly covered by the neat white tunic adorned with threads in the red color of his rank. The almost inaudible gasp making its way to his ears let another smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.

“You need to work on your skills of deception, Tribunus, you're way too easy to expose,” was all he said as he slowly turned around to his new superior with his hands on his narrow hips, “you've been watching me the entire evening, and you must know my name quite well because otherwise, you couldn't have found out where you had to wait for me after the orgy. Proconsul Tiberius allows only a few guests to reside in this wing of his villa, and I happen to know that you are not among them. You certainly will be one day, but not yet.”

Manuellus' blush deepened, and he nervously chewed on his bottom lip, unsure what to say or to do now, but he didn't avert his eyes from Thomas as the centurion noticed with contentment.

“I wanted to talk privately to you, without all these... people surrounding you,” he finally mumbled, and Thomas allowed his amused smile to play around his lips visible for the other one this time.

“Subs. It will get easier to speak the word out loud with every time you do so, Tribunus,” Thomas stated with the faintest hint of dry amusement in his voice, walking over to the table at the other side of the room to pour himself some of the delicious wine Tiberius offered to his most welcomed guests. It was of high quality and lighter than the wine served during the orgy, and the first glass of wine Thomas was drinking tonight.

He sipped from the sparkling red liquid with his left hand still on his hip, regarding Manuellus thoughtfully.

“I'm not a sub!” the taller man almost spat out, his cheeks shining with both, anger and embarrassment.

“I didn't say that you are a sub, Tribunus Novus,” Thomas gently pointed out, his eyebrow traveling upwards, as he pursed his lips. “I only helped you with the word you obviously have such trouble saying it out loud with, because the 'people' having surrounded me tonight like you observed it so rightly are for sure subs. Hmm, that's probably the reason why you sneaked into the quarters of a Dom who hadn't been officially introduced to you so far, then. You surely came to me to ask me which of these truly handsome and eager subs I would recommend to you.” This time, he didn't make the effort of keeping the irony out of his voice as he returned the taller man's gaze impassively.

Manuellus scowled at him before he remembered that annoying the younger one wouldn't get him where he apparently wanted to be so badly – namely in Thomas' bed – and the dark-blond centurion felt a strange tingling in his stomach. He had heard stories about the other man's braveness in the battle, and he felt drawn in to him like he had never felt drawn in to anybody else. He actually appreciated Manuellus' defiance and cheeky demeanor, the subs he had had to deal with after Robertus' departure were far too servile for his liking.

Being a sub had nothing to do with weakness or cowardice, and Thomas wanted a strong and self-confident sub as the strong and self-confident Dom he was. He wanted a sub who surrendered to him because they knew that it would pleasure both of them – themselves and their Dom - and not someone who simply was too afraid to make decisions on their own.

“No, I didn't come here for that,” Manuellus finally admitted, and Thomas sipped from his wine again to hide his smile. “So what did you come here for, Tribunus?”

“I... I just thought that we could play some games...” the taller one croaked out, averting his eyes from the object of his desires with crimson-red cheeks.

“I see. What kind of games do you want to play with me, Tribunus Novus?” Thomas had to admit that he enjoyed himself much better at the moment than he had enjoyed himself during the endless hours of the orgy, and he could feel the slightest twitching of his manhood at the thought of playing a bit with his attractive superior.

Manuellus' Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed audibly. “Uhm, I thought that we could perhaps play with each other something special... you being the one in charge and I being under your command for the night, in bed... I'm not a sub, I just like to play such games sometimes...” his unsteady gaze flickered to the large bed that stood before the wall between the entrance and the doors leading to the balcony.

Thomas put the mug back onto the table. “Too bad that I don't play games, Tribunus. If you just wanted to play some 'special' games, then you'd better have searched for someone else just wanting to _play_ as well, I'm afraid,” he stated, slowly walking over to where Manuellus stood, the tribune's eyes now fixing something at the wall over the entrance only he could see.

“I see. I apologize for disturbing you then, Centurion Mullericus,” the young tribune said without looking at Thomas, finally admitting that he had indeed known Thomas' name the entire time, a small shiver wrecking his frame when Thomas entered his personal space. “I didn't mean to bother you.”

“You didn't bother me,” Thomas mused, stepping closer to pull another reaction from the taller man. “I must admit that you've made me curious, Tribunus. You say that you're not a sub, but that you've come here to give yourself under my command for one night nevertheless. You're definitely not the kind of people I get to meet oftentimes, and I feel intrigued and want to find out who you actually are, Manuellus Novus. I'm willing to believe the description of yourself you've given me for the start, and getting to know you better might be a game I would actually like to play tonight.”

Manuellus shivered again, and his nostrils flared when Thomas' natural male fragrance penetrated his nose. He shot him a quick uncomfortable glance. “What do you have in mind?” he asked, and he couldn't hide his excitement about perhaps yet getting what he had actually come for, but there was also mistrust audible in his voice.

“I'll ask you questions, and you will answer to them honestly and sincerely. If I like what you say, then I will give you a reward in return. Let's find out together how far it will take us, shall we?” Thomas stood very close to Manuellus now, and he looked up at him with a questioningly raised eyebrow without being bothered by the height difference.

Manuellus nodded hesitantly, licking over his lips with the tip of his tongue. “Sounds fair to me.”

Thomas folded his arms before his chest. “Very well, let's start, then. Who of Tiberius' servants have you asked in which quarters you would find me?”

Manuellus looked irritated, it was clear to see that he hadn't expected this question as the first one. “Uhm, Publius,” he answered, taken aback, “he's the most garrulous of the proconsul's servants and slaves. I'm not sure why Tiberius still allows him to be anywhere near him.”

Thomas had already thought that it had been Publius telling the tribune where he would find him, and he chuckled at Manuellus' dry statement. “Yes, he is. And the proconsul benefits too much from Publius' willingness to share his knowledge about all the other senators with him to remove him from his post. Tiberius is aware of Publius' urge to chat, don't you doubt that. Fine, your reward is that you're allowed to undress your toga.”

Manuellus' eyes widened, but he did as he'd been told and undressed his toga without objection, hanging it over the hook attached to the wall next to him. Thomas took a few seconds to admire the gorgeous worked-out male body that was revealed to him now. The rather thin and short red tunic didn't really hide it, snuggling close to the broad chest and the narrow hips of Manuellus' tall frame.

“How long have you been watching me at the orgy?” Thomas had told his new superior the truth when he had said that he didn't play games, but this game was actually a game he enjoyed playing pretty much.

Manuellus swallowed visibly again. “Ever since you'd entered the hall. You were the most impressive guest of the entire revelry.”

Thomas' eyebrows traveled upwards again. Normally, it was Robertus catching everybody's eyes when he entered a room, and Thomas had entered the hall together with his friend. He really didn't begrudge his friend his attractiveness, but it was nice to know that at least a few eyes had lingered on him as well.

“You've watched me for a rather long time, then. Did you like what you saw?” Thomas knew that he shouldn't ask such a question, but he just couldn't help it in this moment.

Manuellus blushed again, but nodded. “I wouldn't be here if I hadn't, Centurion.”

“Undress your sandals and go to the bed.”

The tribune did as he had been told, shooting Thomas a quick sidelong glance as he unlaced his sandals and stepped out of them.

“Do you like giving orders?” Thomas' next question caught his counterpart off-guard, and he stared at the smaller one with a frown. “It's my job to give orders as a tribune, Centurion, and I know that I'm good at that.” Manuellus lowered his head down again, and his next words were very quiet. “I've always wanted to serve Rome, and becoming a Roman officer was the only way to fulfill this dream. I'm giving orders to keep my men safe and alive, it's not about what I like to do or not like to do, just about staying alive and winning the battle.”

Thomas had expected this kind of answer to come, and he nodded with a smile. “I've heard stories about you, Tribunus Novus, you're for sure good at that. You're very good at keeping your legionaries safe and winning your battles as it seems, so you must be good at giving orders. It's good to know that you will come to Germania with us.”

Manuellus relaxed at Thomas' honest praise. “Thank you.”

“Undress your tunic, Tribunus.” This pulled a violent shudder from the taller man, and Thomas could see his certainly impressive male equipment twitch under the red linen of the tunic. Manuellus pulled the red garment over his head, standing before Thomas naked except for his loincloth now. Thomas jerked his head at the foot of the bed, and Manuellus silently folded the tunic and hung it over the foot-board.

“What about your private life, Manuellus? Do you like giving orders in your private life, too?” They were finally nearing the important part of their game.

The tribune hesitated, averted his eyes again. “Not so much. It's exhausting to be in command and make decisions the entire time.”

“I see. So you like to give up control and let someone else be in charge for a while.” Thomas confirmed, and Manuellus nodded again. “Yes.” Thomas could feel his uncertainty about their game, but it didn't diminish his anticipation, which was tenting his loincloth visibly now.

“Sit on your heels in the middle of the bed.” Thomas couldn't know Manuellus' preferences at this point, but he was pretty sure that his new superior didn't like to kneel before a Dom, at least not when he had just met them. Letting him sit on his heels was a good compromise for the start.

Manuellus' eyes became dark with the desire and lust their game aroused in him, and the young tribune looked gratefully at him as he climbed onto the bed to sit in the center of it just like Thomas has ordered him to do. Thomas had apparently been right with his assumption about Manuellus not wanting to kneel before him.

“What do you need to give up control, Tribunus?” Thomas asked, stepping closer to the bed. Manuellus' eyes followed his every movement, and he unconsciously licked over his lips again.

“I need to feel safe,” he said after a short moment of hesitation.

Thomas sat down on the edge of the bed, holding the taller man's gaze. Manuellus' breath hitched in his throat, and he shifted his weight in the attempt to ease the tension he must feel in his groin.

“Don't move, Tribunus.” Manuellus froze in place, staring at Thomas with flaring nostrils and a heaving chest. The dark-blond Dom could almost taste his arousal on his tongue, and his own body reacted forcefully to the tempting scent, reminding Thomas that it had been a rather long time since he had had an intimate encounter with a willing sub.

None of the few bed-partners he had shared his bed with had been as fascinating and desirable as the young tribune was though, a man who was his superior and not ready to admit his true nature. Thomas knew that he had to be careful not to deter him away, and he was determined to win Manuellus' trust and help him come to terms with what he actually was. Proconsul Tiberius most likely knew about the submissive nature of his new tribune, but he always chose his officers because of their skills and qualities regarding their jobs, and never because of their private needs like so many other Romans did it.

Tiberius had praised Manuellus' skills and devotion towards Rome as the brave and strong soldier he was, and what his new tribune did or not did in bed was of no concern to him. Thomas and Robertus had served under the command of other subs over the past years, subs who had been better superiors than most of the Doms they had met, brave and tough and strong, always being the first ones to ride in the battle. Manuellus must have made some bad experiences that he had such problems with accepting himself the way he was, and Thomas would do his best to show him that there was nothing he needed to be ashamed of.

“Do you feel safe with me, Tribunus?” he wanted to know, and the answer came without hesitation this time.

“Yes, I do, Centurion.”

This earned him a smile that made Thomas' eyes sparkle, and Manuellus heaved a small sigh of need.

“Close your eyes, Manuellus. You're really doing great so far.”

“Thank you, Centurion.”

“You may call me Thomas,” Thomas said, regarding the tribune sitting on his bed, naked except for the tiny piece of garment covering his most private parts. The white linen was dark where his desire had left a wet stain, and Thomas balled his fists to keep himself from touching him there.

“How often have you allowed someone else to take care of you this way until today?” Thomas was surprised about the hot wave of jealousy washing over him by the mere thought of another Dom touching the handsome tribune with the clear blue eyes.

Manuellus' Adam apple bobbed up and down a few times, and Thomas could see him balling his hands in his lap too.

“Not often. A tribune is expected to always be the one on top and in charge.”

Thomas snorted at that. Being on top had nothing to do with being the one in charge, but most people didn't want to see that. He actually preferred to be on top most of the times as well, but he didn't make the mistake of thinking that being the one on top was all one needed to be a good Dom.

“I see. So you prefer to bottom, then?”

Manuellus' cheeks reddened, but he lifted his chin up and nodded almost grimly. “Yes, I do. It's hard to find someone I could trust enough to give up control for some time, and the two or three times I've tried it have been not so good.”

“Then you've met the wrong Doms so far, Manuellus,” Thomas stated, moving closer to the tribune and sitting down in front of him on his heels as well. Manuellus flinched at the word Dom, but he stayed silent, waiting for Thomas to continue their game, only his harsh breathing giving him away.

“Tell me your no-goes, Manuellus.” Thomas felt nervous for the first time since they had started this game, hoping that he was right with his guess that the young tribune trusted him enough to tell him what he didn't like.

His unexpected but now very welcome guest bit down on his lip.

“I don't like to be called names – ignoble names. I'm not a 'bad boy' who needs to be punished, and I'm not a cunt or anything else.”

“You're certainly neither a bad boy, nor anything else of this kind. Doing this would never have crossed my mind, Manuellus.” Thomas had never felt the need to call a brave man surrendering freely to him bad names and humiliate him this way, and he reached out and touched Manuellus' balled fists with his hand in a brief, reassuring gesture. The young tribune relaxed gratefully, and it was obvious that he had feared that Thomas would want to do that after their talk about the sub-topic.

“I'm not another one's toy, I don't like toys to be used on me, and I won't let anybody chain me or tie me up. No punishment or humiliation.”

Thomas moved his hand upwards from Manuellus' sweaty fingers to his face, cupping his cheek and brushing with his thumb over his trembling lips. The taller one leaned in, pressing his cheek into Thomas' palm, and Thomas' throat tightened with a hot wave of tenderness for the treasure he had found without even looking for it. Tribunus Manuellus Novus was the most fascinating man he had ever met, and Thomas wouldn't let him go again, that much he knew for sure.

“That's understandable, it takes a lot of trust to merely think of such things, and I'm not really into them either. Besides, I don't need to chain you to be the one in charge like others would need it to do. What about blindfolds?”

Manuellus thought about that for a moment. “I don't know, perhaps, but not now.”

“That's fine with me. You will keep your eyes closed until I'll tell you otherwise though, Manuellus.”

“Yes, Thomas.”

“You said that you like to play games, did you mean role playing games with that?”

The young tribune frowned in confusion. “I – I don't know, I guess so?” he finally mumbled, and Thomas pursed his lips. He needed to know Manuellus' safe-word, but calling it safe-word would make him tense up again, just like the word sub. He would have to be very careful with his choice of words, at least at the beginning, and Thomas kept stroking Manuellus' cheek while he thought about how to solve his problem elegantly.

“Fine, we'll have to find that out together, then. Playing such games can include that 'no' doesn't necessarily means 'no', but is a part of our game. I want you to tell me a word that means 'no' in any case, making me stop what I'm doing instantly.”

Manuellus apparently knew enough about these things to get what Thomas was trying to say without using the word 'safe-word' right away, even though he was denying the truth. “ _Garum_ ,” he said with a shudder of disgust and without having to think about it even for a second.

Thomas chuckled at that. “Uhm, good choice, I guess. But why _Garum_?” he wanted to know, pulling another shiver from the taller one. “I was forced to eat this fish-sauce when I was a boy. It was already foul, and I hardly survived this experience.”

“Urgh, I see, _Garum_ is it, then. My word is _Millepeda_.”

Manuellus hummed in agreement. “I don't like them either, but they don't scare me like _Garum_ actually does.”

Thomas decided that it was enough for now. Manuellus had come to him because he trusted him enough to offer himself to him, acknowledging him as the one special Dom who could give him what he longed for so badly, and this even though he had such a hard time facing the truth. It would have been much easier for him to search for someone less dominant and strong, for someone who would consider this just as a game and do what Manuellus wanted them to do.

But this wasn't what the young tribune truly needed and wanted, and Thomas longed to be the one seeing to his needs and show him how wonderful it could be between them.

Manuellus really deserved to finally get what he had come for and apart from that, Thomas didn't want to risk that this amazing man would look for another Dom but come back to him after this night because he knew that his new Centurion was the only one who could truly satisfy him.

“You have done well, Tribunus, so I'm willing to reward you properly and give you what you've come here for,” he said, and the soft moan of anticipation he got in return made him hard and aching.

“Lie down on your back.”

Manuellus obeyed instantly, and Thomas pulled at his loincloth to finally free his manhood, already hard and wet and ready for the pleasures awaiting them now. Thomas was not the one randomly bedding people he had just met on an orgy, but Manuellus happened to be his new superior, someone Tiberius had chosen to join his legions personally, and the gorgeous cock throbbing heavily told the dark-blond Centurion that just teasing the handsome tribune would be a cruel thing to do.

Manuellus lay there in all his naked glory, displaying his beautiful male body to him with trust and longing written all over his face, and Thomas couldn't keep his hands to himself any longer, his fingers itching with the need to caress the gorgeousness spread out before him. The young tribune called the perfect body of a Greek or Roman god his own, reminding Thomas of Apollo and Mars at the same time, and his hands explored the secrets of his beautiful Apollo of their own will, tracing along the chiseled breast muscles and the sculptured landscape of Manuellus' broad frame with rapt devotion.

The tribune's skin was warm and soft under his touch, velvet-like silk over steel-hard flesh, his thighs the thighs of a soldier and rider, twitching when Thomas' fingertips traveled over them in feather-light strokes.

“Remember to lie still and not move, Tribunus,” Thomas reminded him strictly when the older one wriggled and writhed beneath him, bending down to let his warm breath ghost over Manuellus' flushed face.

“Yes, Thomas,” Manuellus murmured, trying to lie still, his eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“Do you like to kiss, Tribunus?” Thomas murmured against his lips without really touching them, and Manuellus instinctively craning his neck gave him the answer he had hoped to get.

“Depends on who wants to kiss me, Centurion,” the taller one murmured, his cheekiness and defiance rising to the surface for a brief moment. Thomas appreciated that, he had never been a friend of servility.

“The one you want to play with tonight, Tribunus Novus,” he breathed into his ear, pulling a heavy shiver from his nightly visitor.

“I think so...” The last word ended in a loud moan.

“Very well, let's find out, shall we?” Thomas grazed Manuellus' lips with his own, his tongue darting out between them to give the older man a foretaste of what he would miss if Thomas didn't kiss him. Manuellus' mouth chased after his lips, and Thomas growled possessively and finally kissed him, the fire of their desire burning high as their mouths touched for the first time.

Thomas searched blindly for the vial with the oil he had put on the small table beside the bed before he had dressed for the revelry, oil he normally used for smearing his weapons and keeping the leather of his light armor smooth and flexible, but which could be used for something entirely different as well.

The Dom with hair like honey slicked his fingers up with practiced ease and made himself comfortable between Manuellus' spread legs, kissing him thoroughly as he explored the soft cavern of the tribune's mouth, tasting of sweet peaches and red wine. Their tongues met curiously, and Manuellus let the younger man take the lead, surrendering to his deep kiss eagerly and with the same passion.

His probing finger were greeted with the warmth of silken walls clenching around the cheeky intruder, Manuellus' ardent moan vibrating against his lips as he pushed into his tight passage to explore the delightful secrets awaiting him there.

“You're so tight, Tribunus, so incredibly tight, let me in!” Thomas whispered, sucking the air out of Manuellus' lungs with his kiss. The taller man gasped into his mouth, clenching his hands at his sides.

“You can touch me, Manuellus,” the young Dom murmured hoarsely, sensing how hard it was for the tribune to lie completely still and just take what Thomas did to him.

“Thank you.” Manuellus raised his arms to enclose Thomas' shoulders with strong hands, hands that were used to holding a sword or the reins of a vivid horse, and Thomas distracted him from the ache in his secret core with his kiss, exploring his mouth with his tongue until there was not one single spot left he hadn't caressed and stroked. He could add a second and then a third finger sooner than he had expected it, and he drew back from Manuellus' swollen lips to enjoy the sight of the tribune's with lust and desire suffused features.

“How long has it been since the last time you've bottomed, Manuellus?” he asked when he pulled his fingers out, sitting back on his heels to regard his superior closely.

“A year.” Manuellus swallowed, and something in his voice kept Thomas from asking more questions. He simply shrugged out of his tunic and removed his loincloth to line himself up.

Manuellus' hands had fallen back onto the bed, and Thomas leaned down again when he was naked, taking his wrists to lay his hands on his shoulders again.

“Open your eyes, Tribunus, I want to see the look in your eyes when I take you,” Thomas ordered, his voice harsh with his own overwhelming desire. He couldn't remember one single time he had wanted – needed - anything like he needed to sheathe himself into the handsome tribune's willing body now, taking him and possessing him until Manuellus Novus would forget every other man who had ever had him this way.

Manuellus obeyed, opening his eyes and looking up at him, his blue eyes almost black with his painful desire to be taken.

“Just like that, look at me and show me how much you enjoy it to be taken. That's what you have longed for all night long when you've been watching me, Tribunus, isn't it?” Thomas almost growled as he pushed into the older one, teasing him with his torturingly slow pace. Manuellus gasped out, and he spread his legs wider, arching his back up with a frustrated and impatient sound.

“Do. Not. Move!” Thomas stopped, pretending to pull out of him again.

Manuellus froze again, staring up at the Centurion with eyes like he had never seen before that night. “I'm sorry, Thomas,” he ground out, but the defiance was still lurking behind the subdued tone of his voice.

“Don't do that again, Tribunus, or our game will be over before it has started. You want me to be in charge tonight? Then you'll better do what I tell you to do.”

“I will.” Manuellus' jaw worked, and a new wave of tenderness and desire surged through the young Dom. Manuellus Novus was a real treasure, and Thomas was just grateful that he had found his way to him.

“Fair enough, let's try it again. Don't move. Lie still and take what I give you. Look me in the eyes and let me be in charge, Manuellus. I will make you feel good and I will give you what you need, I promise you.”

Manuellus nodded, relaxing at last. Thomas pushed into him again with one deep thrust, poising in his motion when he was buried to the hilt in the young tribune's quivering heat.

They looked at each other, and Thomas started to move when he saw the change in Manuellus' expression. He moved in and out of him in a steady rhythm for a while, letting the pleasure build, bit by bit, and he only changed the angle of his thrusts when the taller one tensed up again, this time because he was getting close to his climax.

Thomas had to grit his teeth to keep himself from spilling his painful pleasure too soon, and he moved his right hand away from where it had pressed against Manuellus' broadly built chest to wrap it around the tribune's throbbing and leaking manhood instead. One day he would be able to make him come from his cock inside him only, but tonight he wanted to make sure that his beautiful Apollo trembling with need underneath him would be completely satisfied.

Manuellus felt perfect in his hand, hard steel under smooth skin, warm and slick with the lust Thomas' powerful thrusts made him feel. Thomas teased the pulsing slit, milking more creamy droplets from it, and he didn't order the young tribune to lie still when Manuellus' hips jerked with the first wave of his orgasm, only bent down to drink the hoarse moans of his release from his lips.

“Give yourself to me, Manuellus, surrender to me and let me take care of you.” His tender words pushed the taller man over the edge completely, and the sensation of warm wetness coating his fingers was too much for Thomas to take. His strangled moan was an echo of Manuellus' hoarse cry of satisfaction, his world exploding into a million glittering pieces when his climax overtook him and he filled his beautiful Apollo with his hot seed, shooting his ecstasy deep inside him.

The young Dom found himself kneeling between Manuellus' strong thighs when it was finally over, his mind dazed from the intense pleasure he had just experienced, his fingers still enclosing the other man's softening cock. He blinked, smiling down at the young tribune watching him silently.

“How do you feel, Manuellus?” Thomas asked, surprised about how nervous he felt all of a sudden.

The taller one swallowed but returned his smile, a honest and somehow shy smile that cut right through the young Dom. It would crash him if Manuellus didn't find him worthy enough to repeat their encounter, he realized, but the smile aroused the hope in him that his superior would want to do that again.

“I feel good,” Manuellus said after a few seconds of listening inwardly, “more than good actually.”

“That's good. Stay here, I'll get a cloth to clean you up.” Thomas got up from the bed and walked over to the restroom belonging to his quarters, resisting the urge to pinch himself to make sure that he wasn't only dreaming.

He could only hope that the reason for Robertus' sudden and rather mysterious absence was as good as his unexpected nightly visit had turned out to be, and Thomas returned to the beautiful Apollo waiting for him in his bed with a smile on his face.

Tribunus Manuellus Novus would for sure be a fortress that was hard to conquer, but Thomas was a patient man, and there had been other fortresses he had conquered with his charms, his strong-willed and independent beautiful Arab Nighthunter for example.

Time would tell if he would be successful this time as well, and Centurion Thomas Mullericus was very much looking forward to his new task.


End file.
